


A Thing With Feathers

by lone_lilly



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lone_lilly/pseuds/lone_lilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wonders how many times he will have to live this moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thing With Feathers

  
**title:** A Thing With Feathers  
 **fandom:** _Grey's Anatomy_  
 **pairing:** Meredith/Derek  
 **rating:** R  
 **spoilers:** through 08x09 Dark Is The Night  
 **summary:** He wonders how many times he will have to live this moment.

for [](http://distant-dreamer.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**distant_dreamer**](http://distant-dreamer.dreamwidth.org/) , who wanted post-ep angst. Merry Christmas! <3

  


  


  
 _"I'm never good enough.  No matter what I say or what I do.  . .  I fail her over and over and over."_ \-- Derek Shepherd

  


\---

Meredith doesn't say a word to him on the way back to the hospital. They are crammed elbow to elbow in the back of the helicopter and she sits slumped against him, her head on his shoulder. He knows he should feel relieved that she is fine, that she could have easily been one of the bodies littering the cold, wet road when they'd arrived. She hadn't let him examine the wound on her forehead and even though she doesn't seem to have any serious injury beyond what a few sutures can close, the scent of her blood clings to the back of his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

He wonders how many times he will have to live this moment. How many times will he have to brace himself against the mounting panic that he might never see her again? Or the choking relief to find her alive only to discover she's untouchable; that physically she's fine but emotionally she has already left him.

He was supposed to fix her this time. Zola, the Alzheimer's trial. He was supposed to fix her, _them_. He wanted to give her everything so she had no reason to leave him again. No reason to stop swimming. And when she had messed everything up by being so goddamn _reckless_ , he had found he couldn't forgive her. Not for this. Not for taking away any security he'd allowed himself in their marriage.

So, he had been an ass and treated her like shit for weeks because it was easier than admitting he was the one who failed her. She had lost two babies she never would have even wanted if not for him. And the Alzheimer's, Christ. She was so scared one day she would forget everything, everyone. Him. He had just wanted to give her some peace.

Then everything went to hell. And they lost their daughter. Because he hadn't been able to deal with his wife's betrayal. Because he wasn't there to stop her from hiding Zola in a closet all day.

And he wouldn't blame her if she never forgave him for the way he's treated her lately. But she has no idea that every day he wakes up and wonders if this will be the day that she leaves him. She has no idea how much that terrifies him.

How much _she_ terrifies him.

And he has no idea where they go from here. How he can clean up the mess they both made of their marriage. How they can survive losing Zola. How he can survive losing her.

 _She always comes back. She might need a minute to back away, but. She comes back._

Maybe, he thinks. Maybe she will.

But what does she have left to come back _to_?

  


\---

  
She doesn't like him to hover, and he's trying not to. He _is_. But he feels like she is a kite caught in a gale and he's struggling to keep her tethered and safe, unfractured.

They make it up to their bedroom before he can't keep his hands off her any longer, he _has_ to touch her, and he pins her to the door, his mouth descending on hers in desperate longing.

She makes a muffled noise in surprise and for a moment he's certain she will push him away. But then her hands wind themselves into his hair and she presses herself against him as she sinks into their kiss. It's all the encouragement he needs to pull her backwards, their hands working together to remove clothing as his knees hit the bed and he brings her down with him.

They tumble and roll, legs tangling, fingers grasping. Her face is so cold and her hands are colder, making him shudder as he seeks out warmer skin, the memory of her once blue, lifeless body forever haunting him. His fingers move up her thigh, pulling her slender limb higher up his hip, opening her to him so he can find the one place that always burns hot. For him.

She moans his name and he kisses her harder, thinking, _Yes, yes. Stay with me. Don't disappear_.

Part of him wants to slow them down, enjoy this moment for what it is: she's alive and here and he knows better than to ask for more than that. But at the same time, he's desperate to be inside her because he can't help _but_ want more from her. He needs to be a part of her the way she is him, so deep inside he doesn't know where either of them end and begin.

She seems to feel the same way because just as he begins to drop kisses over her chest, she pushes his shoulder until he rolls onto his back and she moves with him, straddling his waist. Her fingers tangle in his hair as she leans down against him, taking control of their kiss, her tongue penetrating his mouth in long, slick strokes.

It's enough to make him groan and then she rolls her hips down until he is sheathed inside her tight body and she begins to move before he can even relish the feeling of completion he had anticipated. Their rhythm is quick, needy and rushed. He grips her waist, helping steady her as she presses on his chest to push herself up.

He watches her ride him, scared to close his eyes in case this is all a dream and he wakes up two hours before to find her limp body scattered across the highway with the others. She catches him staring when he lifts his palm to her breast and smiles at him as she arches back, her lip catching between her teeth.

His hand slides lower until he can feel her heartbeat pound against it, thumping strong and quick. He imagines their bodies trying to match it and it seems to him that she somehow manages it, fucking him faster and harder until all of the pain and worry evaporate into blinding ecstasy as he comes.

  


\---

  
She's always liked this part. Even when they weren't in a relationship, she would allow him this: the quiet minutes after their sex when nothing in the world could get to them. He kisses her bare shoulder and strokes her hip, pressing himself as close he can as he listens to her breathing.

She's not asleep; he can feel her thinking.

"Meredith," he murmurs and he hates the way his own hesitation tastes in his mouth.

"Are you going to leave me?"

They are her words though, not his, and he frowns at her unexpected question, the first real words she's said to him all night. It doesn't really surprise him though; he's given her more than enough reason to doubt his commitment to her, but it still breaks his heart. Especially when he has spent the entire day wondering the same thing about her.

"No," he swallows, pushing on her shoulder until she is forced to look at him. Her eyes are red from where she is trying not to cry and he feels his own sting white hot at the sight. " _No._ I'm not going to leave you."

"It's my fault we lost Zola."

"It's both of our faults," he argues and the weight of that admission nearly suffocates him. "I shouldn't have... if I hadn't pushed you away, Janet would never have suspected anything was going on. We'd still have our little girl."

He should never have let her carry the guilt alone for this, and when her tears finally come he feels his own break loose, the guilt of the past few months threatening to consume them both. He kisses her brow, her eyelids, her cheek; brushing away her tears in an act of penance, feeling his own burn his face.

"She's all alone," Meredith whispers, and he sighs, pressing his forehead to hers. "We could have given her everything and now she has nothing."

"I know."

She says nothing for a long moment and he lets his eyes slip shut, tries not to think about their daughter spending her first birthday in a foster home. Or in a hospital with no one.

"I don't want anymore kids. I can't do this again."

He opens his eyes and meets her gaze, sees his own fractured heart reflected there. He wants to tell her everything will be fine, they will figure this out. But he's promised her that before and look where they've ended up.

Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he takes a deep breath. Exhales. Gives up hope. "Okay."

He can't fix her. This. Not this time. And maybe that's the takeaway from this nightmare, the lesson he is supposed to learn. But he _can_ try not to hurt her again.

He owes her that.


End file.
